Along For The Ride

Many of you who know my husband personally, know I have had from day one of my writing journey, his unconditional support. He’s my go-to guy when I need help with fight scenes, cop talk, cop procedure, suspense plots, bitch session or need to tweak (not to be confused with twerk) that hot cop alpha POV that I not only live with on a daily basis, but write about (hey, I write what I know). I honestly don’t think I would have ever published had he not been along with me each step of the way. He has never turned down any request I have made of him when it comes to the story. Or to write a poem. Along For The Ride was one such request. A couple of years ago, I was on a crazy deadline schedule, had no time or brain cells available to think about a blog much less write one. As he always does, he came through when I asked him to whip something up. I posted this once before, but I thought I’d share it again, mostly because I love this poem, and secondly, I kind of wanted to show him off a little. ^.^

Along For The Ride

by The Hubster

It starts as a dream,

she wants to fulfill.

She knows it’s not easy,

it’s an upward hill.

Explanations of time,

and what it will take.

You wonder if she’ll cook,

you fear she won’t bake!

An obsession it becomes,

and none too soon.

She’s up late at night,

long after the moon.

This thing, romance writing,

is more than a vocation.

It’s sucking up her time,

there’s no longer a vacation!

Her commitment was announced,

no secrets made there

but no one made mention,

how you, she would ensnare!

“Let me run this by you,

a story I’m thinking.

I need you to help me,

My plot I see sinking!”

So over it you go,

while on a long walk.

She attentively listens

as you plot and you talk.

“I love it!” she proclaims,

and gives you a hug.

“I need you to write that!”

From under you, she pulls the rug.

So you write her the scene,

with great enthusiasm.

Then watch as she dissects it,

resulting in a spasm.

“That took me hours to write,

I put a lot into it!”

“And I appreciate that, babe.

Why make me admit it?”

You develop a knowledge,

of the journey she’s taking.

Her dedication to romance,

yours to cooking and baking.

Then late at night,

long after you’ve been asleep,

the computer is off,

into the bedroom she’ll creep.

“Honey, wake up,

I’ve something to share.

I just wrote a hot scene,

to your stallion, I’ll be your mare!”

In the dim of the night,

it becomes quite clear:

Through all of her labors,

there’s still time to cheer!

Then in the mail,

it arrives one day.

The first of rejections,

a horrible price to pay.

So much of her time,

her heart and her soul,

all of your cooking and cleaning,

even the toilet bowl!

So back to the board,

you plot once again.

We’ll both fix this story,

Next time she’ll win!

“It’s RWA,

and I’m going to Chicago!”

There’s no changing her mind,

and no way she’ll let you go!

A meeting she takes,

with an agent or two.

A publishing editor,

and the Rita’s on cue.

She’s in it now,

up to her knees.

A romance writer,

no other moniker please.

You’re dragged along with her,

and now there’s no cure.

You’re both on a journey,

the future unsure.

The phone rings one day.

You’re scrubbing but answer politely.

It’s that editor she met at RWA,

and you grip the phone tightly.

“Honey, it’s for you,

that editor lady.

Do you have an agent?

Do they all sound so shady?”

In no time at all,

there’s a contract to sign.

The money’s not great,

but you still pour the wine!

The first book is written,

then the rewrite it comes.

There’s editor’s notes,

all this work, she earns crumbs!

Then a box arrives

she can’t wait to open.

Her first book in print,

from neither a word spoken.

There on the cover,

for the world to see,

her name in large letters,

she’s weak in the knees.

Next there’s the signings,

and you stand clear

beaming with pride

as fans draw near.

“It’s RWA!”

she proclaims once more.

“They want me to speak,

My writing they adore!”

An amazing trip,

you’ve been along for the ride.

You’ve seen her lows,

and the rising of her tide.

It’s many years later,

and not much has changed.

You still help her plot,

From RWA you’re still restrained.

But your wife’s now an author,

with shelves full of books

who makes time for cleaning

and on Sundays, she cooks!

She’s served on some boards,

and she’s traveling more.

She’s received some awards,

you still go to the grocery store.

She struggles to stay relevant,

in an industry changing,

but she has your support,

this relationship, no rearranging.

A web page maintained.

She has her own blog.

She gives back to her craft,

and leads many like a guide dog.

And from now to then,

when she’s caught in a pinch,

she’ll tap on your shoulder,

you’re her solution in a clinch.

“See, I have this blog

That must be written.

I need your point of view.

Will you do it, Suga’ Kitten?”

She knows that I write

from time to time.

And usually when I do,

it’s done in a rhyme

So through the years

of her arduous journey,

I too have been writing,

perfecting and learning.

We’ve traveled together

through the publishing fog,

which brings me to this day

Writing this blog…

So the question of the day is: Do you have a go-to person? If so, what is the one thing they do for you that no one else can do?

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Bio:

Allison Brennan

Allison Brennan is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly three dozen romantic thrillers and mysteries, including the Lucy Kincaid series and the Max Revere series. She lives in Northern California with her husband, five children, and assorted pets.